


Fae Born

by jaimistoryteller



Series: Wolf and Fae [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Stiles, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Pre-Relationship, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:49:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6551737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaimistoryteller/pseuds/jaimistoryteller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles discovers he's not quite human and helps the pack out along the way</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Journals

**Author's Note:**

> So here is part one of my Teen Wolf series, it starts just after the pool incident and will conclude around the time Gerard kidnaps Stiles, there will be some timeline overlap between the chapters as different characters have their views shown, though the main two are Stiles and Derek. 
> 
> Also I will probably be adding to the tags as I write, just because I am never sure exactly what to have in them, until I actually do the writing. Just like the rating is at M until I know whether I can drop it lower or not.

Stiles POV

When he was sixteen he made a choice that resulted in his best friend being bitten by a werewolf. While he was trying not to panic, he remembered the last thing his mom told him before dying, the last time she had been sane and clear of thoughts.

 _“If you are ever in a situation where everything seems out of your control, read my journals Luc, let them help you.”_ She had whispered, urgency filling her voice.

He had agreed, if only to calm her down but hadn't actually wanted to read them, afraid of how much they would hurt.

Several times now he had considered using them, yet each time he had managed not to do so. Still, it almost felt like a compulsion, the need to get them and read them now. For three months he managed not to touch them when his world was going insane around him, then came the night in the pool where he spent two hours holding Derek above the water. As he laid in his bed, body aching, he feels the nearly overwhelming urge to get them once more. Unlike before where he ignored it, this time he heads up to the attic to retrieve them, returning to his room to sprawl on his bed and read.

 _My dearest Luc,  
_ _If you are reading this, then the Tithe has been paid and I am dead._

_To start at the beginning, I was born to a human mage and his high fae bride in 1609. My parents died fairly close together.  My father in 1631 by burning out his power trying to save the children of the village we lived in. My mother in 1634, you could say she gave up living and willed herself to the mists, death for high fae. Before she died, she gave me her gifts, told me they were mine to protect until my child’s birth, that I should be careful when naming you, for whatever your name is what you would become._

_You have wondered why you have such a hard name to pronounce, that is it. I found a names in the old language I thought would suit you, then I combined them so that they would be harder to pronounce, particularly in this modern era when sounds are used differently. Your full name is not written anywhere, though pieces of your name are in different places. I never wished to risk someone getting their hands on your name and forcing you to their will. The secret of your full name dies with me, to protect you always. The day you asked to be called Stiles I rejoiced because it gave you yet another layer of protection._

_You are like me and my mother: a high fae. You are like my father: a mage, what humans call a spark. The two talents combined will be extremely powerful and you will need a way to ground yourself. I have long suspected that your energy comes from those two trying to find balance within you. I hope you are able to find that balance._

_I believe that you have a mate, and I have left the spell for you to use to find them. A mate is a powerful connection and one of the most important people in your life. Your father was my mate, though I never told him what I was. I loved him as a human and that is how he loved me. I will leave it up to you whether you tell him or not._

_Everything past this point is about my life from the time I  was young until just before I passed. Some of the information towards the end may be useful, for it is about the supernatural in the community we live in._ _I will love you always my Luc,  
_ _Claudia Estara Stilinski_

Setting the journal down, he stares at his window in shock, processing the short note on the page. There has to be more to it than that, he thinks, his mind racing over everything he has ever learned about the fae as he had helped the pack. When that does not feel like nearly enough, he goes back to reading the journals, his attention locking on as he goes through them.

He is nearly startled out of his skin when he hears his alarm go, having only made it through the first few journals. Though he had found the mate’s spell already, along with a few others that he might find interesting. Apparently, his mom had written in spells she found intriguing and useful.

Damn it, he didn’t really get any rest and now he is off to school. Whatever. Not the first time he has run on adrenaline and his ADHD as a way to keep going after not sleeping. School goes in a flash, and he is rather happy when nothing comes up. He has some stuff to do and can’t do it if he is dealing with werewolves and supernatural shit that seems to follow Scott and Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday
> 
> Tumblr about my writing [JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	2. Researching Spells

Stiles POV 

That night, he cancels on hanging out with everyone since there are no immediate emergencies happening. Instead he goes home to reread the journals and pay a bit more attention to the spells listed within. As he reads, he continues to write notes, this time a list of spell he finds along with about where they are in the journals.

When he is done, he glances at the list to scan the types of spells. The three he finds the most interesting are the mate seeking spell, a protective ward, and a territory ward. He wants to use the mate’s spell to know if he has a mate and who it is if he does. According to the notes with the spell, it will help him find balance. The protective spell he wants for his dad and friends, a way to keep them safe as much as possible. The territory ward would help them as well by making it harder for supernatural creatures to come into the territory and cause harm. According to the journal the stronger his will as he casts, with an injunction of the items for the spell, the strong it will be, making it harder to break the spell.

Hopping on his computer, he quickly goes hunting for the items and purchases all of them. Since it will be a week for everything to arrive, he makes plans for when to cast the spells.

In the meanwhile he can work on learning what language the unknown books are so he can work on deciphering them. The ones in Latin and Polish he recognizes, but the other ones he doesn’t. Since he wants to understand the spells words and not just be able to cast them, he plans on spending all the time he is not working on school work studying them.

It’s nearly time to get up in the morning when he finally decides to go to bed and sleeps for just over an hour before repeating the previous day. His entire week is actually like that, leading up to Friday when Scott wants him to come join the pack, but he waves it off stating he has some research to do. So he’s not shocked when none of the others tries to convince him to join them.

Why would they? He’s not really a friend to the vast majority even though he tries to be there for any of them. But that’s not shocking. They aren’t that good of a pack from what he can see in his mom’s journals. According to them, packs are supposed to be a lot closer, and work on trust, not fear. If the protection and mate spells work, he will definitely be having a word with Derek and helping him to get this pack on the right path.

When his window slides open while he is studying, and the sourwolf he was just thinking about slides in, he nearly comes out of his skin because it breaks his focus. He will definitely have to see about setting some sort of alarms. That way he gets a bit of a warning rather than just having them appear.

“Stiles,” the wolf nearly growls, “There has been some odd activity in the preserve. I made notes.” A crumpled piece of paper is shoved at him, as the older man decides to settle on his bed and glare at him.

He rolls his eyes, grabbing the notebook he had been using to take notes on the journal and flips through the pages. He has a great memory, but because of his ADHD he likes to double check things to make sure that he has the right details. They stay like that, quiet and focused while he continues his research. The only sounds in the room are his soft muttering and the sound of the paper as he changes the pages. Once he is sure of what the problem is, he starts talking loud enough to be heard.

“I’ll take care of this,” he tells the alpha, “It’s not something that you’ll be able to do without making it worse, I’m sure.”

“What’s that supposed mean?” The older man snarls, eyes flashing vibrant red for a moment.

“It means, you’re too moody to do it. If I’m right, and I am, ‘cause I’m awesome you know, then the fact you are a werewolf crab ass is only going to make it her want to cause mischief.” He retorts, rolling his eyes as he considers the fact this could be awesome, he could use this as a way to see if what is in the journals is true. So he better make sure to take some bartering gifts.

Even more than that, he might be able to find out what language those books are in. That'd be useful. He has just started to mutter about fae and how that would work with star wars when Derek decides it's time to go.

“Awesome,” he mumbles, “Why couldn't this wait until next week?”

Shaking his head, he considers what would be the best sort of gifts? Something unique, something that will appeal to her mischievous nature, something handmade. Hmmm. A lot of people love his fudge, so he will start with that. Maybe a variety of flavors would be best. Chocolate, mint, walnut, peanut butter, butterscotch, and caramel, he decides before mentally listing what he needs for each. Other gift ideas, one of those custom blankets from the shop in town, he’ll stop at the antique store and see if there are some really old books that might make good offerings too.

Stretching he looks at the clock and decides he needs to attempt sleep.

He dozes until he hears his dad get home. After that, he sleeps a bit deeper. He still wakes up before his alarm goes off. Even though it is a Saturday, he is still up at the same time as he would get up during the week in order to head to town and do some shopping for what he needs for today’s plans.

There is lacrosse practice in a few hours but he doesn’t plan on going, he feels his other plans are more important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday
> 
> Tumblr about my writing [JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	3. Supplies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had intended to post this Wednesday, however some research ended up taking me longer than planned, thus I am posting it Friday.

Stiles' POV   
The first thing he gets is the supplies for is the fudge. He’ll make enough for the pack as well, or give them trial runs. After all, werewolves aren’t going to get poisoned by stuff that isn’t as good as it could be. Once he has enough supplies to make at least five batches of each type, he tucks it into the back of his jeep before considering where he wants to search next.

Antique stores would probably be best for his next bit he needs. If nothing else he can go to some of the specialty shops in the area. At each shop he spends some time talking to the owner or shopkeeper. No reason not to get to know the people at them. After all, he might need bribery gifts in the future too, and maybe spell components.

When he steps into the first store, it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the soft light that fills the shop. According to the sign next to the front door, Gifts and Treasures has belonged to the Tachibana family since 1885. Its current owner and shop keeper is a quiet and serious man named Ibu who often has haunted eyes.

“Welcome to the Gifts and Treasure,” Ibu greets him with a warm smile.

“Hi Ibu,” he responds with a smile of his own, eyes sweeping over the general layout of the store, taking in the glass cases and clean shelves. It’s been awhile since he has been in here. Despite that, he can still see the sections divided up by what Asian country the items are from and the little cards with each item. If he was actually looking at those cards he would know that they are brief histories about the item and how it was made.

“Can I help you find anything Stiles?” the owner inquires, moving slowly around the counter.

Giving a small shake of his head, he responds, “I’m not sure what I am looking.” Tipping his head and smiling, he asks, “How’s everything been?”

The warm smile gets warmer, and the sadness in the older man’s eyes dims just a bit as he replies, “Good, I have two grandchildren now, Asa married and had twins. They are planning to move here next year, her husband Shiro has agreed to help with the store and even took our family name.”

He grins and nods, almost feeling the shop owner’s excitement. “Congrats!”

“Thank you,” Ibu responds with a solemn nod. “Is there a reason you are looking?”

“A gift,” he answers as he carefully walks through, “For a woman,” his eyes become mischievous, he comments, “Not courting her, but as a goodwill gift.”

Nodding, the older man rubs his hand across his chin, “May I suggest something?”

“Sure,” he replies, everything is interesting but none of it is calling to him at this point, at least, not of the items he has looked at.

Leading him over to the far side of the store, he motions to one of the glass display cases, stating, “This blanket was made in 1890 by a Chinese woman named Ling on the birth of her twelfth grandchild in twelve years.”

His eyes follow the older man’s motion, studying the beautiful and colorful silk. According to the small card on the glass case, it is circular and embroidered with each animal of the Chinese Zodiac.

“Can I see it?” he asks, thinking that it might be a good choice.

Nodding, Ibu carefully opens the case and lifts the blanket, allowing it to unfold. It’s beautiful. Each slice carefully depicting the animal that matches its sign, the backdrop silk dyed the color of its element. His favorite slice is the stylized rat with its body of various shades of blues and silvers, eyes shimmering white.

“It’s perfect,” he breathes, “I’ll take it.”

Ibu smiles and nods, carefully folding it back up and asking, “Would you like to continue looking?”

“Nah, I want a few books for the other gifts, unless you have some books?” he replies curiously.

“Not currently,” the shop owner answers as they head back to the register at the front of the store.

After he has paid, and Ibu has tucked the blanket into a nice bag, he bids the older man farewell, promising to stop in sooner than later.

The next store on his agenda is relatively new. It’s called From Plains to Deserts. It was opened two years ago by Abayomi, a beautiful mocha black woman with flashing eyes and a winning smile.

While he doesn’t find anything that he wants to buy as he wanders through the store, looking over the wide variety of paintings with tribal designs, hand carved wooden items, pieces of etched and carved ivory, and wicker made items. His favorite thing is the wood masks, but they don’t feel like the sort of gift he ought to be getting this time. The most useful thing he finds are some beautiful bowls. He does request that she hold a set of wicker bowls with wooden bottoms for a week. After studying him closely for a long moment she puts them behind the counter but doesn’t make any promises. He still thanks her before leaving the store.

Stretching as he steps outside the second store, he glances about, trying to decide whether he wants to head to the bookstore or go to the other antique store. Both are equal distance from where he currently is, and he still wants to look for some other old item that might work as a gift, multiple types of fudge and very beautiful blanket might not be enough.

Nodding to himself, he decides to go to both stores, starting with the other antique store Old Times Treasures. Rolling his shoulders, he debates between walking and driving, deciding that walking will work better for the first one, it will also let him walk past some of the small shops between here and there.

When he gets there a few minutes later, he wishes he would have driven instead, none of the stores had called to him or seemed appealing to him. At the third store, his eyes sweep over the outside. Enjoying the warm feeling it gives off. Opening the door, he steps in, taking a deep breath of the books, old wood, and dust smell filling the air.

“Welcome to Old Times Treasures,” a teenager he doesn’t know greets him, voice bored.

“Hey,” he responds, with a nod. It’s been awhile since he was in here too. He can’t remember who was working then.

When the kid doesn’t say anything else, he shrugs, turning his attention to looking around. He spends several minutes wandering through the section of knickknacks before making his way to the books section. It’s not all that big however he takes his time as he looks over each book, carefully weighing what they are about against what he knows of the fae. He wants to make sure whatever he gets ends up being something a supernatural creature would appreciate.

He is still looking at the books, when the kid’s replacement, a woman he knows, shows up.

“Hi Stiles,” Helena Chapman greets him warmly when she spots him.

“Hey Mrs. Chapman,” he responds, smiling at the older woman politely. “How’ve you been?”

She smiles absently, wandering over to him. “Oh, things have been, I have a new group of summer workers.”

He nods, continuing to go through the books. There are two that seem interesting, one which is written in old French and the other a book of fairy tales, but not the modern variety, the older scarier types.

“I think these are what I was looking for,” he tells her, making sure to tuck the rest back.

He listens as she talks about her kids and brand new grandbaby. It’s her first, by her eldest kid. Her other children are still going to college or university depending on their field of study. He’s happy when another customer comes in, it gives him a reason to escape without being rude. A small part of his mind wonders if that is how people perceive him when he gets going, but he shrugs it off. At least he doesn’t repeat himself, even if he does babble with the best of them.

Humming, he carries the bag with him as he heads to the last store on his list. Thankfully, it’s not that far.

The fourth store he heads into is a Reader’s Choice. It’s a well kept and cozy. The floor is hardwood, and the lights bright enough to see without being obnoxious the way some places lighting is. The bookshelves are all wooden, beautifully crafted, with various etchings in the wood. The counter with the register is made with the same wood and craftsmanship as the bookshelves, near the front door. There is a small reading area tucked into the back corner, made up of a small table, two plush chairs with an end table between them, and a warm colored rug. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Stilinski, how is your father?” Mr. Mandal, the store owner, greets him as he emerges from behind the register.

“Hello Mr. Mandal,” he replies with a smile, “He’s good. Things have been calmer these last few weeks. How’s your family?”

He doesn’t mention that he knows why there is a lull or the fact that he expects it to end and is gearing up for that possibility. Instead he sticks to the positive side of things and the polite question about family.

A warm smile curves the older gentleman’s lips as he answers, “They are good. Ester has been baking a great deal for the end of the of school bake sale. Eli’s practice is doing well, his wife Maria is a very sweet girl, they are expecting their first child just before the New Year. Isaac and his partner are moving home to help me with the store, they are discussing adopting a child. David is courting a nice girl, they are considering marriage. Rebekah is nearly done with her time in the university, she is graduating with honors.” There is pride in his voice when he speaks of his children, even Isaac, though he knows that Mr. Mandal had a hard time accepting his middle son’s choice of life partner.

He nods happily, “That’s good though, sounds like they are getting everything sorted out.”

“Slowly but surely, as is His will they are,” Mr. Mandal answers. “Is there something I can help you find?”

“I’m looking for old books,” he responds with a small smile.

“Old books? I have a small collection in the back room if you would like to browse them. They are kept there to protect them, since not all patrons are careful of them.” The older man offers.

Grinning, he responds, “That’d be wonderful!”

With a nod, the older man turns and leads him towards the back and the doors that lead to the loading and storage area.

Opening a small side door within the storeroom, he motions him in as he clicks the overhead on, “This is the old books room,” Mr. Mandal states, “Please keep the books orderly. When you are ready, please close the door behind you, I try to keep this room closed up to protect the books as well.”

He nods in agreement, “Okay.” Smiling, he states, “Thank you.”

With that the store owner steps out of the room, closing the door.

He spends the next several hours lost in thought as he goes through the books. Each one is handled delicately, making sure that he is not going to accidently harm them. There is actually a few he would like for his collection, because they are on mythology and ancient cultures, at least that’s the impression he gets. The one is in French or at least he thinks it is. The other is in Old English. The books he decides to get for trade gifts include a really old cook book, a collection of short stories written during WWI, and a book of fabrics. He’s not sure why the book on fabrics seems like a really good idea, but it does, so he picks it up.

When he leaves the room, he is careful to make sure everything is back where it belongs before closing the door behind himself.

He moves quietly as he re-enters the main part of the store, eyes sweeping over the area in a way he is becoming far too familiar with as he automatically checks for danger.

When he spots none, he makes his way further into the main part of the store, heading towards the register.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Mr. Mandal inquires politely.

“I did, thanks, plus a little bit more.” He answers with a smile, setting them down on the counter.

Smiling the older man carefully checks a little piece of paper he has within the front cover of each, typing the code into the register to ring each up.

He pays without question when Mr. Mandal gives him the total, internally flinching because he just spent more of his allowance than he probably should have in the last few hours. Not a big deal. It just means he has to save some of his next couple weeks up. Prior to reading his mom’s journals he had wondered where the allowance he got when he turned sixteen had come from, but now he understands it is part of a trust set up for him and managed by the bank. As soon as it had become available, he had used part of it to finish catching up the bills he had been balancing since his mom’s death. The rest was used to restore Rosco, bringing him back into the best shape possible. If he has asked his mechanic to do some reinforcing of the roll cage and bumpers since his entrance into the supernatural, well that’s just being safe than sorry, and nobody’s business but his.

Giving a small shake of his head to bring his thoughts back to the present, he bids Mr. Mandal farewell, and leaves the store. Best get home and get to making these fudges, he already spent more time in town than he had planned on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday
> 
> Tumblr about my writing [JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	4. Baking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: everything is Stiles POV so the only time I use his name is when someone is talking with him.

Stiles' POV  
It's nearly dark when he gets home, and his stomach is reminding him that he never stopped to eat lunch while out finding stuff to use as bribery gifts or trade gifts. 

Shrugging, he ignores the feeling until he has everything in his room except the food supplies which he puts in the kitchen. 

He frowns as he thinks of what shift his dad was supposed to work, checking his phone to make sure he didn't miss a call and discovering a text.

-Stiles, have to work a double, Officer Friendly's wife went into labor.- Dad

Figures, he thinks, that’s how it goes. When I need to have a serious talk with my dad he has to work. Well then. I will just have to have the talk with him tomorrow about it. After we get done talking, I will go visit the fae person who is bugging the pack. 

With that in mind, he he starts setting everything out, making sure that he has enough ready for each type of fudge before he actually begins. 

Clicking on the radio, he makes one more check that he has everything he needs before beginning. He knows that he will probably lose himself in the baking, it won’t be the first time he has decided to make large batches of something, probably won’t be the last since he uses it as a way to clear his mind and process. He never could understand the concept of mediating staying still, he’s got far too much energy for it but he read in a book once where the characters mediating by sparring with each other. Since he doesn’t have anyone to spar with because none of the pack is willing to spar with him, not even Scott who used to spar with him, he has taken to cooking to do the same thing. 

He starts singing along to the tunes as they blare through the house, setting up the many tin containers he bought for the purpose of making fudge. Once that is done, he loses himself in the process of melting and mixing. Taking his time to make sure it is going to be perfectly smooth and well blended. 

As he works, he makes it a point not to think of why he is making all this fudge. Trying not to think about all the ways this could go wrong, not the fudge making, that he can do in his sleep. But the bribing the fae person who is causing the problems. After all, fae can be tricksters of the worst kinds, and the best kinds, here’s to hoping whatever she is, it’s not the violent kill everyone and take their stuff kind.

By the time his dad gets home at one am, he has everything done and is in the process of cleaning up the mess. 

“Stiles,” he dad states, drawing his attention. “Why is there so much fudge covering everything?”

Glancing about, he takes in exactly how much he has made, and grins, quite pleased that he made more than enough. That’s a good thing. He’ll probably need all of it.

“Well, I sorta needed to talk to you, but you had to work, so I worked on something else while I was thinking.” He answers with a shrug, going back to washing the last of the pots used for chocolate melting. Probably a good thing he has been cleaning as he goes. Means there is not nearly as much in need of cleaning as there otherwise would be. 

His dad sighs, eyes sweeping the kitchen again. “We can talk now if you want.”

“Get some rest, we can talk in the morning,” he replies. 

There is no reason to do this when his dad is half dead on his feet. It’s not that big of an emergency. Though, he tips his head, he should probably invite Melissa over too. No, not this time, he’ll invite her later, afterwards if he needs to get someone who can confirm the supernatural aspects. It’s not his place to tell his dad about the werewolves, though if he has to he will. Really he would prefer just to talk about his aspects of not human. 

Giving a small shake of his head, he glances around to make sure everything is clean. 

“Goodnight dad,” he remarks once he sees he has cleaned everything up, “We can talk in the morning.”

“Goodnight Stiles,” the sheriff responds tiredly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My publishing schedule, I will still update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. The stories that will be updated depend on the day:  
>  **Saturday:** Gift for John, Choices, Right Decision, Clandesitne, Changes, Powers That Be  
>  **Monday:** Patron, Lost and Found, Baker Street Polyamory, Kingsman Academy, Oral Fixation, Daughter  
>  **Wednesday:** Seeking, Trial  & Error, Healing, Distraction, Learning to Live, Fae Born  
>  **Friday:** Stillness in Silence, Recruited, Changes Continue, Unexplained, Unusual Relationship, Blessed
> 
> Tumblr about my writing: [JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	5. Morning Chat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waves* someone actually read this and reviewed, for some reason I never got the email for said review, but as I was cleaning up my inbox today I found it and it inspired this chapter, while not long, I hope you all still enjoy.

Stiles' POV   
He sleeps for a few hours before getting up in the morning before his dad. That’s not really surprising. He seems to have so much energy that he is always on the go. One of the things his mom’s journals suggest is to find a quiet place to lay permanent warding and use a mediation spot, she even had a few of her own. He plans on checking them out later, after he deals with the fae creature in the forest first.

Since he’s already up, he might as well make breakfast, he’ll even let his dad have real bacon, just because this talk might be a bit on the stressful side. He’s nearly done with everything by the time his dad walks in, still looking tired despite seven hours of solid sleep.

“I smell real bacon, what have you done wrong?” his dad asks suspiciously.

“Nothing yet,” he replies with a shrug, “but I thought you should have bacon today because it’s going to be a stressful and awkward conversation.”

Setting the plates down, he take his seat and they start eating.

Neither says anything until they are nearly done, at which point he asks his dad, “What do you know about mom’s family?”

Frowning, the sheriff thinks about that for a few minutes before answering, “Both her parents died when she was young. Illness. I suspect it was the same one that killed her. Originally from Poland. Wasn't always really good at English but she caught on quickly.”

“Was there ever anything strange about her? Something that made the hairs on the back of your neck prickle?” he queries, trying to ask if his dad had any clue his wife wasn’t human.

“Where are you going with this Stiles?” his dad demands, rather than answering the question, eyes narrowing at him in frustration.

His hands fiddle with his fork as he replies, “What if I was to say mom wasn’t human and it wasn’t insanity that killed her?”

“You need to sleep more,” the sheriff informs him, before questioning, “Something. She had to be human, what else is there?”

“Fae,” he answers hesitantly, “high fae to be exact.”

“Stiles,” his dad just about growls.

“I can prove it!” he exclaims. Glancing around, he tries to figure out what the best thing he could do is, and settles on changing his dad’s shirt until his dad believes him. “Look at your shirt. What color is it?”

Confusion and frustration fill the sheriff’s eyes but his dad luckily plays along with it, “Dark blue plaid.”

Focusing, he wills the shirt into bright pink with yellow stripes plaid.

“What the hell?” his dad exclaims jumping up and staring at his shirt in shock.

He then turns it green and orange, adding little spirals to the design.

“What are you doing? How is my shirt changing colors?” the sheriff demands, disbelief and confusion warring in his dad tone. “I’ve had that shirt for years.”

“Magic,” he answers seriously, focusing on returning the shirt to normal. “I worked on moving stuff with my mind yesterday, it’s part of why I had to clean up the kitchen several times during the fudge making process. I kept ‘dropping’ things. Apparently I am just as clumsy with magic as I am without.”

“She, you, how didn’t I know?” his dad asks, having a hard time getting it out.

“She wanted you to love her as a human. So that’s what she lived as. She loved you deeply though, according to her journals.” He answers, smiling wistfully.

His dad’s head jerks in his direction, eyes staring at him unseeingly, “You still have them? I thought they were gone.”

Shrugging, he replies, “They were in the attic. She made me promise to read them if something ever came at me that I couldn’t easily deal with. Which leads to the second part of the conversation: fae aren’t the only magic creatures out there. It’s not my secret to say who isn’t human, but there are more out there than you’d expect.”

“Shit, so all those animal attacks probably weren’t animal attacks. Ever.” The sheriff mutters in frustration. “What can you tell me?”

It’s his turn to be confused, because how is his dad taking this so well and not demanding more answers? He was totally expecting things to not go this smoothly. Nothing in life ever goes this smoothly. That’s just a fact. Things have just been crazier than normal since Peter went feral and bit Scott.

“Why are you being so calm?” he retorts once he finds his voice again, not actually giving his dad a chance to respond before launching into a full description of the various creatures they’ve dealt with, carefully leaving out who ‘they’ is and who ‘the creatures’ are for those who belong to the local area. By the time he’s done, his dad is staring at him with narrow eyes and tightly pressed lips.

“You’re going to tell me all of it again, this time slower so I can take notes and we can discuss this.” His dad tells him firmly. “Do we need to talk about trusting each other?”

He hems that question with, “Some of it isn’t my place to tell you, so I didn’t feel right saying something when you probably wouldn’t believe me without proof.”

Sighing, the sheriff rubs the back of his neck. “That’s true. No more secrets in the future about this. Anything you can tell, do tell me.”

He nods in agreement, “I can do that.”


	6. Shale

Stiles’ POV  
He's happy that telling his dad about the fact that he's not quite human seems to have broken the tension between them. Their conversation ends up going on far longer than expected. His dad asks a lot of questions, most of them for clarification of things they discussed.

They're coming to the end of their talk when his dad almost hesitantly queries, “Stiles.” There is worry and something else in the dad’s tone.

“Yeah dad?” He responds cautiously, still figuring out what that something else is. Amusement maybe, acceptance, possibly a little of both?

“Be careful,” His dad states, his lips quirk up just the slightest before he remarks, “Try not to destroy the house during your learning curve.”

Laughter fills the house as both of them crack up over that, what a way to break the tension.

“Sure, daddy-oh.” He answers when they finally stop laughing.  “Well,” he drawls, “I need to go bribe a fae creature to stop playing tricks on people.”

“Fae creature?” his dad repeats.

“I don't know what type exactly, some sort of high fae, but I have an idea and a plan.” He answers, muttering to himself almost like an afterthought, “Generally my plans work, unless I'm not listened to.”

“Be careful,” the sheriff comments.

He nods, “I will be. Got everything I need in the jeep. Don't know how long I'll be gone, high fae creatures can sometimes make time seem different. Should be back tonight or early morning.”

Without saying anything else, he heads to the jeep, mind already changing to focusing on the problem and how to deal with it. He's rather thankful that he doesn't run into any of the pack on his way to where he is pretty sure where the fae is currently gating at. There's a lot for questions he wants to ask, which is why he has more than what he thinks he'll need for bribing the fae to stop harassing people.

When he gets to the edge of the preserve, which is just a bit away from where he needs to be, because he thinks the entrance portal thingy is that funny looking oak tree, he one with bark that often seems like real silver and not just like a normal white oak tree.

Shutting it down and climbing out, he looks around before going to the back of the jeep to grab the stuff. The blanket has been left carefully wrapped to keep it clean, the books are still in the protective paper wrappings inside the bag, and all the fudge is packed in baggies in his backpack.

Grinning, he grabs all of it before he heads towards the tree, calling out, “Fae person playing with the local wolf pack, come out, come out, wherever you are.” He pauses for a moment, looking around to see if he got any sort of reaction, “Come on now, I know someone is around here, you’ve been playing with the puppies and they’re whining a bit about it.”

He spends close to an hour wandering near the tree, occasionally in circles around it, occasionally just out of sight of it, calling for the fae person. He’s considering going back to the truck and maybe grabbing his phone to text one of the pack to come annoy them when he feels a ripple in the air.

Freezing in place, he slowly turns around, carefully scanning the area until he finds himself face to face with not one, but two different fae people. Well shit, what if he doesn’t have enough bribe stuff?

“Hi, hello, how’s it going? I’m Stiles,” he greets them with a quick grin that hopefully masks his nervousness. Do fae creatures have the enhanced senses like werewolves? He absently wonders, or some other special ability?

“What do you want?” the one on the left demands, and he knows it’s not English, but he still understands even though he doesn’t know why.

“Well, I came to hopefully bribe you into leaving the wolf pack and tourists alone.” He answers honestly, “I came baring gifts for that goal.”

The one on the right drifts a little closer, studying him closely. He doesn’t look really close at her, but he gets the impression of water and ice, cold stone and shimmering metal.

“You’re Claudia’s child, the fae child she gave birth to more than two tithes ago.” The second fae murmurs.

Sighing, the first fae creature vanishes in the air without saying a word. At least, he didn’t hear anything, that doesn’t mean the other fae didn’t hear something.

“Okay-then,” he hums, “should I be concerned?”

“No, she won’t be back, she didn’t realize there was already a fae in the territory. I knew Claudia had passed, but I thought you had moved on.” The remaining fae tells him.

“Uhuh,” he mutters, brightening he asks, “So, bribery gift so you stop if you are also doing so or maybe to answer some questions?”

She laughs, the sound reminding him of water moving through shells. “I barter for information. Information is never free.”

He grins, he can work with that. “I got books, a really beautifully crafted blanket and a bunch of different types of fudge.”

Her head tips as she studies him thoughtfully, a moment later they are somewhere else, though he couldn’t say where.

“You may call me Shale.” She informs him, motioning to a seat as a platter appears.

It’s going to be an interesting time, he thinks. Now to see what all he can learn. Hopefully what he brought will work for bartering, he’s not sure what else to do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Publishing schedule, I will try updating one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
> 
> Tumblr about my writing [JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi, communication keeps the muses brewing


	7. The Kanima Spell

Stiles’ POV  
His conversation with Shale was delightful. They worked their way through half the fudge he brought, with her trying each of the flavors and seeming to love the butterscotch most of all. She was very helpful about answering questions, particularly as some of his questions were focused on the kanima. 

While human mythos have that only love can free a kanima and make them not a pawn, Fae mythos have a few other hints to add.at least according to Shale. He can effectively bind the kanima, even without knowing who it is, to himself in a way that is similar to a pack bond, only stronger. Apparently the magic that gives the kanima the ability to change is seeking a bond, and by accepting the person, known or unknown, without question, it returns free will to them.

She even provided him with the spell needed. 

So now he's home, and it's way sooner than he expected to be, which is good, but boy does he feel tired because time there is different than it is here. There he spent hours chatting and eating, here it's only been a little over one.

“How'd it go?” his dad asks as he slips in the house.

“Good,” he answers, nodding and thinking about it, “better than expected.” He hesitates for a moment, “I know how to stop the current thing killing people.”

His dad stops moving, stops everything as the sheriff turns towards him. “You can stop the killings?”

“Yeah,” he replies, “It should work. I'll gain something like an annoying sibling, the kanima gets someone to accept them, which frees them from being controlled.” He doesn't mention the fact that he will be able to give orders and have them obeyed because he doesn't actually want that part. “So I'm gonna be in my room for a bit.”

“Try not to bring the house down on us,” his dad suggests.

He just laughs, heading upstairs.

How to go about doing this, he ponders, he needs a candle for focus, thankfully it doesn't have to be any particular type. The spell requires him writing his name and his promise with a combination of ink and blood. It's a type of blood magic, not the sort most fae do, but handy for tough situations.

Hmmm, his pocket knife, calligraphy pen, and inkwell should do the trick. It doesn't have to be a special sort of paper, so he is going to use some print paper and then store it with his mom’s journals which seem to be easy to forget or not notice for most. His dad has looked right at them several times without seeing them.

So he gathers what he’ll need and settles on the bed.

Pricking the tip of his finger, he let's the drops fall on the small bowl he has for the ink, then pours some of the ink from the inkwell in it before sealing the inkwell to avoid accidentally spilling all of it. He's done that before, which is why he started using a tiny tupperware bowl for only the ink he needs. Using the tip of his pen, he mixes the ink and blood together thoroughly. 

Okay, so, focus on the intent, write his and and the person, or in this case creature, name with the ink. He'll know if it takes because the ink will change colors. Depending on the colors is the type of relationship they'll have, which Shale was nice enough of explain to him.

He’s still trying to understand why she was so helpful, but that is something to focus on at a later time. When he’s not trying to stop some a death threat. 

Lifting the calligraphy pen, he dips it in the ink and focuses on what he wants. He focuses on the spell, carefully writing his name and then putting the kanima, focusing on a bond, one of family and acceptance even though he originally wanted to kill the person because of them being a threat.

Slowly the ink changes from black to a spectrum of purple, brown, and orange shifting together yet staying separate. 

That’s interesting, not the sort of color scheme he was expecting. Aggression, friendship, youthfulness, flamboyance, speed, vibrantancy, earth, needing attention, honesty, reliability, endurance, nature, restlessness, magic, arrogance, wealth, confidence, concentration, transformation, cruelty, and mourning. What a list of meanings, it might not be all of them, but it’s definitely interesting combination. 

As he glances up, he catches his eyes in the mirror, realizing that they are glowing vibrant amber. The pupils missing, so his eyes are all iris. That’s an interesting development, and he curiously wonders if they will do that every time he casts a spell. 

His eyes eventually fade back to their normal color as he continues to watch.

Well then, how will he know who it is? There has to be something. Some sign that he will know when he sees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday
> 
> Tumblr about my writing [JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	8. Game Day

Stiles’ POV  
Two days later is the morning of the game and also his birthday. Though the only person who seems to remember that fact is his dad. A very sad fact since Scott is supposed to be his best friend, not that that seems real anymore. Scott hasn’t acted like a best friend for the majority of this school year. The only time his supposed best friend remembers him is when he is useful for something.

According to his dad they are going out for his favorite meal after the game to celebrate his birthday. Hopefully it actually happens and his dad doesn’t get called into work. There have been plenty of birthdays ruined because his dad’s job as a sheriff required him to leave unexpectedly. Actually, at this point he should just accept that as the standard before it can happen, then he wouldn’t be disappointed.

He pushes those thoughts away as he prepares for the day. The first thing he is going to do is the soulmate spell. According to the notes in the journal it can take several hours to manifest but he’s not exactly sure how it will. Since he doubts he will be playing tonight, it’s a perfectly time to do so. Thankfully, everything has showed up over the last two days, so he just needs to cast it.

Even though he has committed the spell to memory he rereads to make sure he doesn’t make any mistakes.

“I can do this,” he mutters to himself, “Say the words and believe. Mix the components together and then light them on fire as the spell is finished. Got it.”

He nods once before collecting everything needed and proceeding with the spell. He’s not exactly sure what to expect as he is still getting used to the feel of magic and all that it encompasses. So far all his minor magic has worked, and the fly by the seat of his pants protection spells on Melissa and his dad worked not that long ago when the jail was attacked by the kanima. But he doesn’t know if the kanima bonding spell worked yet, he hasn’t run into the kanima while shifted, which is apparently when he will know. So, he has no idea yet, but is definitely looking forward to the results.

He likes the idea of a soulmate, someone who is right for him, despite his flaws and quirks and whatever. A part of him hopes it’s Lydia, because that would make him feel better about years of damn near stalking her, but he’s got a feeling it really isn’t her. He’s just not sure who it is yet.

After the spell is done, he cleans everything up before getting ready to go deal with the pack bullshit that seems to be ever growing. This time the situation is the kanima. Since he hasn’t told the others he’s not purely human yet, he doesn’t know how he is going to convince them not to hunt whoever it is and kill them. True, he was all for killing the kanima before speaking with Shale but now that he cast that spell and it will hopefully resolve this situation, he really rather not. There has been more than enough death around here.

So the next few hours are spent dealing with Derek and Scott, the contradictory plans and ideas, and the clash of personalities that seems to happen every time those two get within line of sight to each other. It’s really rather annoying, that’s for sure. The only advantage is they don't agree on a plan, which buys him more time to make sure his spell worked.

When it’s time for the game, he joins the others getting changed but deciding to do something against the rules by tucking his cell phone into an inner pocket of his jersey shorts. He doesn’t know why that’s important. He just knows that it is. Particularly since he seems to be the only one in the mix that is trying to figure shit out right now.

The werewolves in his life a really annoying at times, he decides with a glance at his ‘best friend’.

Somehow, he ends up on the field, playing with the others even as he expects everything to come crashing down. After all, he’s aware of the fact that Scott is being blackmailed into doing what Gerard wants. Does his so called best friend listen when he tries to give ideas on how to safely deal with the situation? Of course not.

So for fifty-nine minutes they deal with the game, and he keeps watching for a sign of some sort that everything is going to go wrong. When it does go, it’s almost anticlimactic.

He spots the way Jackson’s eyes shift and he starts to change, spots the old man glaring at his rival-one-time-friend, and knows that everything is about to get crazy.

“Don’t do this,” he states softly, hoping that Jackson’s hearing has improved.

According to the way the co-captain’s head swings in his direction, Jackson did.

“It’s your body, no one can control it but you,” he continues keeping his voice soft and pitched so only supernatural people will hear him. “Do you wish to stay a rather awesome lizard if no one is forcing you to their bidding or do you want to be a werewolf? Both are your options, you can even keep both forms. It is _your choice._ ”

It’s almost as if a dam is broken, one moment there is nothing, the next there is what he calls a glowing light in the back of his mind, a connection forming that makes him intimately aware of the kanima’s feelings. Jackson’s loneliness and desire to be accepted warring with shock and disbelief.

He was definitely _not_ expecting to be able to feel the shifter in the back of his head.  No one had said anything about the bond forming like that. Maybe that’s why blood magic is rarely used, it does the unexpected.

A single shot rings out, echoing through the air and causing panic among the crowd. His eyes widen in horror as Jackson goes down, pain echoing through the link that has only recently formed even as he can feel the shifter’s body trying to heal, starting by shutting everything down to do so.

He’s so focused on what’s happening before him that he doesn’t even notice when two bulky men and Gerard surround him before forcing him to leave with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Publishing schedule, I will try & update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
> 
> Tumblr about my writing [JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/money)
> 
> I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	9. Caught

Stiles POV

Should he try getting away? He wonders, could he get away? Possibly not. While Gerard might just be a really creepy old man, he’s sure there is a lot more to this scene than he expects. So he’ll wait and bide his time. He’s actually pretty good at that, despite his ADHD. It’s all a matter of goals, and right now his goal is figure out what’s happening.

One of the two goons shoves him down a flight of steps when they get to Argent home. He’s terrified when he goes tumbling but he doesn’t reach for that phone he isn’t supposed to have on him because he doesn’t want them to realize he has it.

The first thing he does as he manages to roll himself onto his hands and knees before forcing himself to his feet is feel for a light switch because he can’t see much of anything right now. He really wants to be able to see. Why hasn’t he tried improving his senses yet? That is totally next on his list of spells to try.

Of course, when he finally finds the light switch, he’s horrified by what he sees. Erica and Boyd are hanging from the ceiling, their bodies dangling from tautly pulled chains humming with electricity. Pain and fear fill both werewolves eyes as they stare at him beseechingly.

So this is why he needed his phone. Is foresight or premonitions going to be one of his talents? That could be really handy, now the reasoning needs to be a little clear for him, rather than feeling like a gut feeling.

It takes a moment of focus, but he dials his dad’s number, muting his phone so his dad can hear them but they can’t hear his dad. Big mistake, not taking his phone, that’s one they are definitely going to pay for in the long run. They probably figured he wouldn’t have one on him since it’s against the rules for safety reasons.

He’s not startled when Gerard comes down the steps, an expression of pure contempt coloring every aspect of the old man’s features.  

“What are you doing with them?” he demands, knowing that his dad is aware of the supernatural, and even though this isn’t his secret to tell, he’s not going to let this asshole get away with his crazy plans. Not a good idea to kidnap the sheriff’s son.

Since the old idiot isn’t aware that his phone is currently on, recording what they are saying while his dad can also hear, Gerard sneers, “At the moment, keeping them comfortable. There’s no point in torturing them further, they won’t give up Derek. The instinct to protect their alpha’s too strong.”

He flinches, because it looks like both of them are in pain, and he can’t do anything about it, because he needs them to still be in this condition when the authorities get here, it shouldn’t take too long. His dad is good at his job and is being given a road map in the form of his phone right now.

“Okay,” he drawls, trying to keep the old geezer talking, the more the idiot talks, the better their chances, “So what are you doing with me?” he pauses, trying to decide how much to say, and decides to over talk, so it just seems like a teenager trying to come up with a way to be noticed to those who don’t know about the supernatural, “Because I’m sure Scott can find me, all right?” he bites back a smirk as he continues, “He knows my scent. It’s pungent, you know? It’s more like a stench. He could find me even if I was buried at the bottom of a sewer covered in fecal matter,” like you he thinks viciously, “and urine.”

Come on dumb ass, say something really stupid, I know you can do it. You think I am going to play by your rules, hate to be the one to tell you that’s not happening. He thinks as his eyes narrow and he waits to see what the old man has to say.

“You have a knack for creating a vivid picture, Mr. Stilinski. Let me paint one of my own. Scott McCall finds his best friend bloodied and beaten to a pulp. How does that sound?” Gerard tells him as the old man moves closer.

He can’t stop himself from sassing back, “I think I might prefer more a still life or landscape, you know?” He intentionally smirks, pissing the old man off as he asks, “What – what are you, 90? Look, I can probably kick your ass up and down this room if I wasn’t bound.”

The fist slams into his jaw, popping it and he can’t help the internal shout of joy even as he winces in pain and lands on the hard floor.

Gotcha. He mentally crows, because even if the werewolves will heal really quick, he won't so there will be evidence for several days to come. Of course he could speed his healing up, that's one of those spells he found in the book, but he's not going to do that.

One of the goons drags him back onto his feet, and he intentionally deadweights because he is going to draw this out until his dad gets there with reinforcements.

Bad choice old man, should have had the goons search him, he thinks, making sure his microphone is all the way up so this will get heard. Knowing his dad, it's already being recorded as evidence.

He gets slugged several more times in various spots but before the old man can do anything else, like use the knife that keeps getting tossed between Gerard’s hands, the sound of the doors exploding inward reverberates through the basement from above.

Gerard spins furiously towards the noise, staring up the steps in horrified infuriated shock as the basement door flies open. Pieces of wood cutting through the air to scatter all around them.

“Really shouldn’t have kidnapped the sheriff’s kid.” He states conversationally as the goon let's go and steps back. “It’s not healthy for you, and look, you have these two other poor kids being tortured, how do you think that will look? Too late to fix your mistake.”

“What have you done?” Allison screams in horrified disbelief.

It draws his attention to the fact his best friend’s on-again off-again girlfriend is here, and has been here through this mess since he didn't hear the door open again after Gerard started beating the ship out of him. Of course, she could have came in and he didn't notice for that same reason. Well, how did he miss her? Not important, he can figure out her part in this later. Right now he has his own part to play.

He doesn’t answer as his dad and half the department barges in, weapons raised and aimed directly at the old man and the goon. Not far behind them is several CHP officers with their own weapons drawn.

“Stiles, are you all right?” his dad demands as one of the deputies cuts him free, and six others free the two injured wolves.

“I’ll be fine, I’m not sure about Erica and Boyd though, he was being so cruel to them, using electricity to make them have seizures.” He replies, worry and panic filling his voice.

He doesn’t have to say anything else as Gerard, Allison, and the goon are arrested. From one of the others he learns that there are several men upstairs that have been arrested as well but he doesn’t comment on that. Not yet. He will have enough to say when he gives his statement to the police.

The look of pure hate that Gerard gives him as the old man is lead away sends cold chills through his body but was definitely expected. He would have been more shocked not to get a dirty look. But seriously, who's stupid enough to kidnap a sheriff's kid and not expect consequences.

What he doesn’t understand exactly is what the confused expression on Allison’s face is about. The fact he went outside the normal bounds? The fact he isn’t playing this game? The fact there are consequences for actions? He’s really not sure what. They were friends, he’d like to be friends again someday, but that is definitely not happening if she keeps her head up her ass. Grief can cause people to do the wrong thing, he seriously hopes that’s what this is. He'll see if he can get his dad to let him talk to her privately.

One of the deputies mentions seven other men were arrested upstairs, but Chris isn’t among the numbers for them arrested. Hopefully that means the hunter was not part of this. That’d be a good thing. He likes Chris, mostly anyways, because the hunter seems to be the type to stick to the code. Or at least tries to anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday
> 
> Tumblr about my writing [JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	10. Spell Results

_Stiles’ POV  
_ He knows there is going to be questions, lots and lots of questions. That’s alright, he can play the scared kid who is having memory problems because of his fear. Truthfully speaking there isn’t a lot he isn’t afraid of in this situation. It reminds him of the old phrase ‘courage is being afraid and doing it anyway’ which seems to describe his life way too much sometimes.

The next few hours are crazy, literally crazy. He has to make a statement, he has to get checked at the hospital, and he has to make another statement to see if he remembers anything more. He gets an update on Jackson, apparently he didn’t die but it was a near thing and the kanima is recovering in the hospital, although no one knows he’s the kanima. Chris wants to bail his daughter out, and he gets asked by his dad and several of the deputies if he wants to press charges against her, which he doesn't, she wasn't part of the mess despite being there. The old man on the other hand, well, him he'll press charges against repeatedly.

Boyd and Erica are refusing to say anything. Not that that’s surprising. He would have been more shocked if they talked about it. The medical staff is attributing that to the terror and torture they must have gone through considering some of the marks on their bodies. It’s a good thing the forensic photographers got to them before their werewolf healing kicked back in.

He’s thankful when he discovers that they’re are going to be fine, not that he’s actually surprised. Even as he briefly talks with them, making sure for himself that everything is going to be all right, he can see the signs of their healing kicking on. It’s good that they can go home tomorrow, that will eliminate a lot of the questions floating around right now.

During their brief talk, he finds out what they said happened, for some reason feeling relief when they don’t point a finger at Allison, maybe she can still be saved.

He knows his dad is listening in discretely,  hoping that they remember or say something to him they wouldn't be comfortable saying to a cop. When they realize the cops are paying attention. They do point a finger at the old man, stressing how scary he was and how much he seemed to take pleasure in their pain. They make sure the cops know that they were afraid and give a very rough statement about what happened with them. Probably over stressing it, but that's okay considering the situation they were found in.

He grins when he hears that because if they play the cards right, Gerard is going to prison for the rest of his natural life, as are the other men who helped. That'll teach them for breaking the rules and thinking others won't do the same.

By the time he actually gets home, it’s been a long day, a very long day. Longer than he expected when he first got up, and he had been expecting a long day.

He is just lying down on his bed when the energy from the first spell he cast yesterday rushes through him. He gasps as the power of that spell rips through him, images bombarding his mind faster than he can comprehend. Despite that, he is able to snatch just enough information to understand what the images are telling him. Hopefully later he will be able to sort through the images, to actually understand them, but even if he can’t he at least got his answer. Or will have it once his brain makes sense of everything, not an easy task considering his head feels like it’s splitting open.

But before he can put a name to the person he sees, he passes out, most likely from exhaustion considering his day.

At first there is nothing, just the quiet of unconsciousness. Then things begin to change as he goes from passed out to sleeping. His sleep is filled with dreams. He’d almost call them memories except for the fact they aren’t his memories. It doesn’t take him long to understand who’s they are based on the snippets he recognizes even though they aren’t from his perspective.

 _Derek. His mate is Derek Hale_. Holy shit.

That snaps him awake nearly instantly but he doesn’t know what to do. There is no way in hell he’s saying anything. Not right now. Not with the memories rushing through his mind and giving him an understanding he didn’t previously have. That is definitely not what he was expecting.

He doesn’t know how long he spends sprawled on his bed, staring at his ceiling as he thinks about that simple fact.

oOoOoOo

 _Derek’s POV_  
It’s a long night for him, but he gets a text message telling him it’s alright to go home. Stiles has been located, as have Erica and Boyd, which gives him an unexpected burst of relief. They willingly left him, or so he thought, yet now he discovers that they were captured and chained up by Argent. Not Chris, but his father. The old man that Chris wanted to stop. Still a mind reeling concept, a hunter wanting to stop another hunter.

A part of him wonders how much of it was Allison, but that’s not something he is going to think about right now. It just too much. It’s been too stressful today. Really, it’s been too stressful since the fire that ripped his world apart and everything that has just added up to make things so much worse.

He’s barely asleep when his mind seems to be swamped with information. Everything seems so odd. His senses are so dull, duller than they have ever been. It takes him several minutes to understand, and when he does, he’s not sure what he thinks about it. Why is he seeing memories of Stiles life? Most he doesn’t understand, but some he does. Many are recent events, including tonights, with Stiles casting a spell and then using magic to activate his phone to call his father and entrap Gerard Argent.

When he wakes up he finds himself dwelling on the last of the memories he viewed. The one that surprised him the most. What. Stiles trapped the hunter using the human law enforcement? That’s outside the bounds between hunters and wolves.

Except.

He hesitates, sitting up and staring at the wall on the other side of the room, by kidnapping Stiles, by trying to harm Stiles to force the events, by controlling the kamina the hunter broke the rules, by becoming the principle of the school and harming those not involved he broke the rules. So did Stiles actually do it or did the hunters? Maybe both of them did?

Since he can’t fall back asleep, he finds himself thinking about the situation he now finds himself in. Why does he have memories from Stiles? What was that spell that the teenager cast right before everything went sideways? How is he going to find out? The only thing he can determine is he has to ask Stiles, there is no other option.

oOoOoOo

 _Stiles’ POV_  
He is awakened by the scrapping of his window opening. A moment later a familiar form rolls through, one that is still echoing behind his eyes.

“What do you want Derek? I need sleep, it’s been a really long day and I don’t have werewolf stamina.” He tiredly asks the wolf as the dark haired man straightens up.

“What was the spell you cast this morning?” Derek demands, voice low and rough.

He blinks, talking a long moment to process that question. How does the wolf know he cast a spell this morning? He didn’t mention it when he saw the wolf briefly earlier. Just like he didn’t mention it to Scott. Hasn’t actually mentioned any of his magic to either of them. The memories, he realizes, he could see Derek’s, so his bet is Derek saw his. Oh. Well. Fuck. That’s a bit  unexpected.

“You saw flashes of my memory,” he mutters, amber eyes wide as he watches the wolf.

“Yes,” Derek growls, crossing the room in two steps to get in his face, leaning over the bed to do so. “I saw. What were they?”

He fidgets, trying to decide how much he wants to say right now. “We’re soulmates,” he announces, deciding to just get it out in the air. “That’s what the spell did, it’s to find soulmates, or potential soulmates maybe. I’m not exact on the meaning but I know that much.”

For several breaths they have a staring contest before Derek is gone, window left open as the wolf vanishes from sight. Tomorrow is going to be another long day. He needs to get some sleep. After all, now that he knows that spell worked, there are a lot of other ones he will be casting as well.  Well, after he gets the supplies for them. That’s before including dealing with the police, Scott, Allison, Boyd and Erica, and anything else that might pop up. Maybe he will visit Shale and see if she has any helpful suggestions. She really liked his fudge, so he can whip up some more and take it with him.

At least he knows one thing, he thinks with a sardonic grin, life definitely isn’t boring. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Publishing schedule, I will try & update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
> 
> Tumblr about my writing [JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/money)
> 
> I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi
> 
> So this is the last chapter in this part of the story. There will be several other stories in this verse not all of which are named but will cover a wide variety of topics. So far I have plotted or partly worked on:  
> -Unbalanced (Peter POV - including the binding spell referenced in Mates)  
> -Disconnect (Derek POV - his division between himself and his wolf following Kate)  
> -Aftermath & Consequences (Stiles & possibly others POV, what happens to the hunters that were arrested, and to the pack)  
> -Protection & Home (Stiles & possibly others POV, protective magic is a very handy thing. It's something that is harder than expected when using it to safe guard a large territory and those within it.)


End file.
